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Pif Magazine
ISSN: 1094-2726
Published by:
Pif, LLC
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SS: I don’t use instructional texts, although sometimes I have grad students read [John Gardner’s] On Becoming A Novelist or The Art of Fiction. I find it’s too hard for most of my undergrads. Mostly we read lots of stories. There is something called The Creative Writer’s Handbook (by Philip K. Jason and Allan B. Lefcowitz) that I got in the mail last year.
MG: I've used that because I teach mixed genre classes, and it covers poetry, fiction and nonfiction.
SS: In general, though, the idea of "Go to this book and it'll tell you how to write" makes me shudder.
MG: I agree. Absolutely.
SS: Because then what happens is students justify bad writing by saying, "Yes, but I read somewhere…" and "somewhere" is a creative writing textbook. Or else they want some kind of Soul Rolfing: "Make me want to be a writer more than I already do." I don’t like that kind of book, either. Seems to me that either you’re a writer or you’re not. And if you’re not, don’t even try to pursue it—it’s too painful, anyway (laughs). Why look for trouble?
MA: Sheila, it seems to me that the students you teach are qualitatively different from those that Mary teaches. Sheila’s students at Cleveland State are generally older, they’re commuters, they have full-time jobs... Mary, would you rather teach graduate students or just older students?
MG: Oh yeah. Maybe not "rather" but "in addition to." I like teaching the students I have, but they’re all 19, 20, 21. Some of them are really, really good, but their experience is limited. And their seriousness is in question. It isn’t that I think they’re not serious, because some of them are, but it’s the kind of seriousness where next year or the year after they could be serious about something else. It’s much different from working with someone who has made some kind of definitive commitment to writing – that’s the experience I have at [the low-residency program at] Vermont College, and it’s terrific.
MA: What were your expectations going in to teaching at a low-residency program like Vermont?
MG: I don’t know if I had any expectations. I suppose just that I would have fun and get to meet other writers. There are a limited number of writers in Cleveland, although sometimes it seems like they come out of the woodwork. Anyway, the other part of it was to get to teach graduate students, which has been very satisfying. The students have been very good. Last semester, for example, I had five students, each with an enormous amount of talent – it was a privilege to read their stories.
SS: I think that my students are interesting because they are doing other things in their lives while they’re taking creative writing courses. For example, I had a student from Cleveland State’s Over-60 Program who was a violinist in the Cleveland Orchestra. Out of gratitude for us "tolerating" him in the class, he played for us one night – it was wonderful.
Many of my students have established themselves in other careers, but writing is a passion for them. Obviously, their perspective is very different from that of nineteen- and twenty-year-olds. Younger students, especially upper middle class kids, think that they don’t have anything to write about. I think they do, but they’re too polite – they tend to be good girls and boys and don’t want to touch certain subjects.
It’s difficult for me to predict what will become of young writers. I had students at Northwestern who are now publishing books, whereas when I taught them fifteen years ago I had assumed they were just jazzing around – it’s neat to see them succeed. On the other hand, some of my older students at CSU have felt like this [attempt at writing] is their last chance to resolve a mid-life crisis or something. It’s as if they want to get it out of their system; in reality, many of them are too busy to really pursue it. So I guess it’s sort of a mixed bag.
MA: I know you’ve both taught in more compressed settings such as writers’ conferences. I know it’s fun to be a participant; is it as much fun to teach at them?
MG: I think it is. Even if it’s not fun, it’s over so quickly, you can’t really complain. I enjoy it for the same reasons I enjoy Vermont – you get to meet other writers and talk about writing all week long or all weekend long or whatever it is. It’s great to be in the company of people who attach importance to the same things you do.
SS: I know for me, teaching at the Imagination Conference at CSU, every summer I look forward to hearing what the other writers have to say about what they write and why. A couple years ago, Andre Dubus III came and read from his novel (House of Sand and Fog), which was recently nominated for a National Book Award. At the time, he had great doubts about the book, which is told from the point of view of an Iranian officer who has escaped from Iran – obviously, a character with a background much different from his own. But it was neat to see the work in progress and, if a National Book Award nomination is any indication, how far he eventually came.
But that’s typical of what goes on at conferences, I think. I sit there and take notes on what everybody says, and it’s kind of like a B12 shot for me – it carries me through to the next year.The teaching part is easier because there’s not as much consequence: you’re not handing out grades, you’re not obligated to give anyone really hard blows (laughs).
